


In which there is ugly jumpers, presents, and kissing in the snow

by jason_todds



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Kissing in the Snow, M/M, Modern AU, Ugly Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2871524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jason_todds/pseuds/jason_todds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Okay so enj is crushing like mad on r and there are cute Christmas jumpers and then there is an argument and enj runs after r and they kiss in the snow uwu</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which there is ugly jumpers, presents, and kissing in the snow

When Grantaire woke up, it was with the niggling feeling he’d forgotten something. He pulled his head out from where he’d shoved it under a pillow and blinked blearily at the surrounding room. 

It was not his room. 

He blinked and sat up, as he did so he disturbed the body next to him, which practically had him in a choke hold. 

“Grantaire,” a worryingly familiar voice complained. “S' early. Go back to sleep.”

Grantaire knew that voice. He looked down at the person wrapped around him and only just held back a very unmanly shriek. 

Enjolras. 

He was in Enjolras’s bed. 

“What the actual fuck,” he said, eyes turned skyward as though looking for divine explanation. 

Enjolras’s tousled blond head rose slowly, his eyes narrow and calculating. His expression was at odds to the rest of him, which looked adorably sleep rumpled. And his hair? Evidently it took a lot of taming in the morning. He resembled something not unlike a very handsome, very blond, sonic the hedgehog. 

“I take it,” he began. Grantaires eyes caught on one particularly gravity defying curl. “That you do not remember last night.” 

Grantaire froze for a second before casually glancing towards his lower body. He was pretty sure he was wearing pants. Like 90% sure. 

Enjolras pushed himself up. He was not wearing a shirt. Make that a solid 60%. 

“You’re wearing pants,” Enjolras said. “Don’t freak out. You passed out - I don’t know how you got so wasted on eggnog, but you managed it - and Bahorel carried you in here. I figured you wouldn't mind if I…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the bed. His brow (his perfect, marble brow) furrowed. “I should have asked, I’m really sorry-“ 

“No, it’s okay,” Grantaire interrupted before Enjolras could work himself up in a panic about asking consent. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s fine.” 

Enjolras relaxed, his shoulders slumping down from the ridged line they’d formed. 

“Oh.” he said. “Okay. Thats good.” 

All of a sudden, the silence was awkward. “I um. I should…” Grantaire waved his hands at the door. Enjolras’s shoulders slumped further. 

“Oh no,” he said quickly, “You don’t have to, the others will be coming a bit later and you could just wait for them here.” He blinked. “If you wanted, I mean.” 

Grantaire smiled “Yeah no, that’d be good.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh shit it’s christmas.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

Grantaire shook his head and laughed. “My god, I completely forgot!”

Enjolras laughed, “How could you, when you're wearing that dreadful thing?” 

Grantaire looked down. He was indeed wearing a rather horrendous christmas sweater. It appeared to have mating reindeer on it. “Oh,” he said faintly. 

His dreadful sweater reminded him of Enjolras's lack of a dreadful sweater. Was it hot in here? It couldn't just be him. 

Enjolras chuckled and leaned over his side of the bed to fish something off the floor. He pulled a green t-shirt over his head.

Grantiare frowned at it. “Is that mine?” he asked incredulously. It looked very much like his missing favourite t-shirt, right down to the faint paint stains. He told Enjolras as much. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Enjolras said, picking at the hem. His cheeks were very flushed. It brought out his freckles. 

“But why do you have my shirt?” Grantaire asked. His mind had sort of stuttered to a halt. Seeing Enjolras in his t-shirt, sitting in bed next to him with a pretty flush spreading down his throat was almost to much for him to process. 

Enjolras’s head snapped up and he was looking at him with narrow, searching eyes. Grantaire was glad that flushes didn't show up easily on his darker skin. 

“You don’t know?” he asked. Grantaire shook his head confusedly, 

“Know what?” 

Enjolras just stared at him before laughing. “If you don’t know by now I’m certainly not telling you. Besides,” his expression grew calculating. “You might just find out later today.”

Grantaire huffed. “Mysterious isn’t a good look on you, Enjolras.” He was lying. Everything was a good look on Enjolras. 

Enjolras just grinned at him. “I’m going to have a shower, feel free to wrestle with my coffee machine.” 

Grantaire just nodded, desperately trying not to form a mental picture. 

Enjolras looked at him for a moment, eyes scanning over him like he was trying to commit the scene to memory. But that was ridiculous, thought Grantaire. Why would he do that?

—————— 

Later, when Enjolras had wandered out of the shower, drawn by the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and Grantaire had, at Enjolras’s insistence, had a quick shower as well, they exchanged gifts. 

After all, it was christmas and who wanted to wait till afternoon for presents?

Grantaire unwrapped his with the almost unholy glee of a five year old, wrapping paper flying everywhere. He grinned widely and pulled Enjolras into a quick hug (which left them both slightly flushed) at the sight of a book on greek classics he’d had his eye on. 

“How’d you know?” he cried happily. Enjolras just shrugged, his smile was slightly crooked and Grantaire’s shirt was falling off one faintly freckled shoulder. 

“I have my ways.” he replied smugly. Grantaire took that as meaning ‘Jehan told me’.

Grantaire only wished he’d caught Enjolras’s ridiculous mixture of exasperation and amusement on film when he opened his present. It was a christmas sweater to rival even the hideousness of his own. 

Grantaire was surprised, and immensely pleased when Enjolras pulled it over his head. “Oh, look,” he said, waving one of his hands around. “I’ve got sweater paws!” 

Grantaire’s heart almost combusted. 

Enjolras looked so utterly beautiful then, his hair tousled and still curling dambly against his jaw, with a flush in his cheeks, that Grantaire couldn't help himself. He leant forward and brushed a gentle, chaste kiss against his lips. 

Enjolras froze. Grantaire backed away hastily. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I shouldn't have done that, I should have asked or—“ he stopped abruptly. Enjolras was staring at him, completely dumbfounded. 

Grantaire clenched his fists, a mantra of ‘stupid, stupid, stupid, why do you always ruin everything’ running through his mind. He turned and almost ran out the door. 

He stumbled down the flights of stairs and shoved his way through the old door at the front of the building. 

'You fucking idiot,' he told himself. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the snow. 

'Why’d you have to go and fuck that up, huh?'

Grantaire shook his head, curls falling over his eyes. 

He was viciously stomping across the snow when he heard footsteps behind him. 

He turned and saw a blur of oversized jumper and blond hair streaking towards him. 

“What the f—“ was all he managed before the blur collided into him and knocked him over. 

“Enjolras, what the hell are you—“ 

Enjolras slapped a hand over his mouth. He was straddling Grantaire’s ribs and glaring down at him. 

“You do not get to do that and then just run away,” he growled. 

“Mmfmbmf,” Grantaire said. 

“Oh shut up, you infuriating— You ruined my surprise, you ass.” 

“Wwbhhf?” Grantaire asked. His question was completely unintelligible but his raised eyebrows and general air of confusion relayed his meaning quite clearly. 

“I’ve had a huge crush on you for months and you had to go and kiss me and ruin the surprise. I had this whole big speech planned, it was all very romantic.”

Grantaire reached up and pried Enjolras’s hand off his mouth. 

“Okay, one, you wouldn't know romantic if it bit you on your perfect ass and offered you roses and two, shut the fuck up and kiss me.” 

Grantaire paused, waiting to see if he’d gone to far. Enjolras glared down at him before very abruptly yanking his head up and kissing him. 

It was a bit sloppy, definitely inexperienced, and overall pretty clumsy. Grantaire thought it was perfect. 

He pushed himself up, so both he and Enjolras were kneeling in the snow. Neither of them could feel their knees but then again, neither of them really cared. 

They were alerted to Les Amis’s presence by a few well aimed snowballs to the head and Courfeyrac's distinctive and slightly unnerving cackle. 

All in all, it was a pretty great christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> This was also posted on tumblr, amnesiacbucky.tumblr.com  
> P.s  
> If you have any prompts or just wanna yell about various headcanons, my ask is always open :)
> 
> And also, huge thanks to my beta who as usual has corrected my atrocious grammar and massacred my commas.


End file.
